Page 87 of Kitty Season
“I know. He’s having some scans, Quinn. One of the doctors just called and told me. He’s awake and breathing okay, but because he has had two concussions so close together they are checking for swelling on the brain.”
“Swelling on the brain?”
“I know it’s scary, sweetheart, but he will be okay. I can feel it in my heart.”
I nod, which is stupid as she’s on the phone, in Australia, not here beside me. “Brady gave me your number a few weeks ago. Troye’s too. The doctor mentioned there was a young woman who rode in with him, and I knew it would be you. Are you alone? Is Troye with you?”
Like I’ve been struck by lightning, I bolt upright in my chair, the sudden movement dizzying. “You know about us?”
“I do. And I’m so happy Brady has found not one, but two people he loves and that love him back. He deserves nothing less.”
After that, I’m barely cognizant of what she, or I say, but we remain on the phone over an hour, my ear burning by the time the nurse that I accosted earlier, Cory’s sister, approaches.
“I’m sorry I took so long, but he was having some tests run. You can see him now.”
“Go, Quinn,” Sofia sobs, the calmness she’s carried all but vanishing. “Go see our boy. I’m going to call the doctor back.”
When I enterBrady’s room, the lights are low, and it’s silent bar the gentle drip emanating from the IV bag hanging beside his bed. His eyes are closed and there’s a terrifying reddish purple bruise on his right temple that disappears into his mop of blonde waves. Other than the drip, I’m relieved to find no machinery with buzzing, beeping lights attached to him. That’s a good sign, I tell myself.
I’m hesitant to approach, unsure if he’s awake, so I kind of just hover by the door and watch the rise and fall of his chest.
He is so pale, so very pale.
“Are you going to just stand there and watch me?” One blue eye pops open, the edge of his lips curling into a faint smile.
“I didn’t want to wake you.”
“You didn’t. Come. Please come sit.” He taps the empty space beside him, and closes his eye.
My movements feel odd as I approach, each step so difficult, feet so heavy it feels like I’m floating in zero gravity. “Are you okay?” I ask, still standing.
“I will be when you sit.”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” I counter.
“You won’t. I’m a hockey boy, remember. We’re tough.”
So gently I’m almost levitating, I sit. “Tougher than your footy players?”
“I reckon.” A tiny laugh sees a disproportionate response in his expression. He winces, one hand flying to his ribs, the other grasping his forehead.
“I spoke to your mom before.” I offer, hoping to distract him. It works, his eyes widen to the size of a saucer, and that cute blush slightly colors his white cheeks.
“Good lord, did she text you a baby photo? Or the one of me when I lost my top and bottom front teeth at the same time?”
“No. But she did tell me you were a massive nudist as a child. I can’t say I was surprised. You hockey boys are all exhibitionists at heart.”
All humor is gone then. The bright spark always shining from within dimmed. “They said I shouldn’t play anymore, Quinny. That I was lucky this time, but might not be so the next.”
“Don’t think about that now,” I whisper, taking his hand in mine, pressing my lips to his palm. “They’re probably just giving the worst case scenario. I’ll talk to Dad. I’m sure he’ll know of some specialists, and they will fix everything. You just wait and see.”
“Okay. If you say so,” he says, so softly I have to lean in to hear it.
Like I did with his palm, I ghost a kiss over the non-bruised side of his temple. “I do. Now, why don’t you get some sleep,” I whisper, his hair tickling my lips. By the time I kiss him once more and return to an upright position, he already is.
With strict orders tostay off the ice in place, Brady is allowed home the next morning. Later Sofia, Brady’s mom is flying in, and will be greeted at the airport by my mom tomorrow. Todaythough, it will just be the three of us … me, Brady and Troye … until Troye has to leave for the game.
The Bears went on to win against Ohio, and will face Denver tonight. The cruelty of Brady missing his chance to play in the Frozen Four final is lost on no one. Troye in particular, seems to be struggling with the unfairness of it all most of all, and has gone out of his way to avoid speaking about the game. Which is not easy. This will be his first and last chance to claim the prize. Dulling down his joy pleases no one. Especially Brady.
